Wanted
by Fairyland.Flame
Summary: Mike is in trouble. And it's all Trevors fault. But how did he even get into this situation? It all started two weeks before... where he first met Harvey Specter... (First time writing a fanfic, so treat me well! Plz give comments on how I did! Or didn't...) Maybe some 'get me downs' in later chapters, so I will rate it M... so far it's introductory.
1. Chapter 1

| Chapter 1 |

Mike was in some deep shit. How he had even gotten into such a situation was absolutely mind fuckery considering never in his life had he dabbled in illegal activities. Well… okay. So he'd done some minor illegalities like underage drinking and pot and maybe even steal a few candy bars from the 7-11, but that was beside the point. Right now, he was currently sitting in a flooded arsenal being questioned by the Russian mafia and having the living shit beat out of him. How he had gotten into the situation was easy. Trevor. Trevor _fucking _Evans. Didn't everything revolve around Trevor?

~ _Two Weeks Befor_e ~

Mike and Trevor were somewhat of a dynamic duo. They'd been best friends since kids and had grown up through trial and error. What had created this unbreakable bond between the two men were probably growing up with not much in their lives, and having to force themselves to become dependent on nobody but a blood pact they made to each other in the 3rd grade. Despite them being best friends with an irrevocable and unshakable hold to each other, they had quite different personalities. Trevor was bold. He liked to push boundaries and see how far he could get without getting caught. He was also extremely handsome and could probably get away for murder if he batted his eyes and showed off his pearly whites. While Mike was a bit meek and doe eyed in the comparison to his friend, what he had that Trevor didn't was smarts. Mike was somewhat notorious for the Mac fast brain of his. He had this uncanny ability to remember things. In doing such, he could remember dates and numbers and all sorts of things that would classify him as a genius. Girls that Mike would date would say his best attribute was his brain. Trevor and his other good friend Jenny told him that women liked that in a man. Of course this made Mike feel he was nothing but a brain. He never said this aloud, but he wished he could also have a different attribute that didn't revolve around his brain, like perhaps his wit and charm?

Currently, Mike was waiting for Trevor outside his work place in central Manhattan. Time was seemingly slow, and like usual, Trevor was late on their meet up. It was 11:45, and Trevor was late by an hour. Mike hadn't eaten since noon, so he was pretty much ready to eat his arm off if he didn't see Trevor in the next 10 minutes.

Trevor was working for a law firm. Trevor was far from a lawyer, but he was like a lackey or whatever that worked for the assistants' assistant… Mike was still a bit unsure what Trevor did that required such shitty and arbitrary hours.

After ten minutes and still no sign of Trevor, Mike got up from the squares garden curb and decided he would go and search for his lousy excuse of a friend rather than eat his arm. He barely made it to the door when someone bumped into him from behind. Mike went to excuse himself, but before he could, two cold eyes met his. He vaguely noted the man's expensive suit and pricey peppermint cologne waft around him.

With a frustrated purse of the lips, the man stepped aside and motioned to the door. "After you." It was then he smelled alcohol from the man's breath and came to the conclusion this man was completely car parked, and even though this man looked like a presidential candidate, if this man didn't sober up soon, he would be monkey in a spinning chair.

"Uh, sir? I don't mean to pry but… you okay? You look"—

The man just huffed at him and ambled through the door way, tripping on the threshold. It was clear to Mike this man was usually a dignified and proper type of man. But with whatever amount of alcohol in his system, he wasn't doing so decent. Mike followed him into the building. Bright white lights made Mike squint and the man before him stumble into a bench. Mike sat down with him. But before he could speak, he noticed a fairly large bruise blooming on the man's left temple. So it wasn't just intoxication.

"You know, you could have a concussion. Trauma to the brain is a serious matter. It'll make you less alert and leave you unconscious and in serious cases leave you dead on your feet. You should seriously have that checked out. I know a friend who works in the ER and can definitely fit you in first so you don't have to wait in that awful waiting line. Trust me; I am making you a fantastic offer."

The man just shook his head. "Enough deals for a day. Where's Donna?"

Donna? Mike looked around the lobby and made eye contact with the security guard at the check in point booth sandwiched between the elevators on either side. "Excuse me. Do you know a Donna?"

The man snorted. "Everyone knows Donna."

"Well is Donna in this building? I think her friend here"—

"Donna is currently at the Nantucket Ballet. She doesn't leave her ringer on in the ballet."

"Right... Well, do you know this man?"

The security guard just nodded his head in recognition. "Everyone knows Harvey. However, this be the first time I'm seeing him like"—

The man before Mike got up quickly, almost knocking Mike over with an elbow. The man, now known as Harvey, stumbled out of the building, obviously trying not to keel over. Unable to leave the man, Mike chased after him.

"Hey!" The New York night was cold. Mike had started to warm up within the building but the harsh winter night hit him like a brick. The man, Harvey, looked unaffected. Mike caught up with him.

"How about I take you home." The man glared at him, and started to walk away. Fast. For a drunk, he was sure determined.

Groaning, Mike caught up with him, panting as he did. Mike was not someone who ran a lot. "Please, you are really not okay. You should lie down. Doesn't that sound great right now?" Mike looked around them and figured that man was probably far from home. They were entering his neighborhood. The Not So Great Neighborhood.

"Well," Mike tried to reason. "How about we head to my place? It's a block from here. I have a cooling pad for your head… your head is pounding right? I've gotten hit in the same spot before… well, in many places. But it was not a big deal. I was—huh?"

Mike had kept walking but realized Harvey had stopped. He'd paused to rest against a building. Mike rejoined him.

"You know," commented the man with a faintly miffed expression, "you talk…a lot."

Mike laughed. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm just really cold and hungry and I would kind of like to get home right about now." The man closed his eyes and then leaned into Mike. For a second Mike thought the man would embrace him… but all he did was sniff his neck. The sensation was odd and Mike turned his head away. But when he looked back at Harvey, he was met with different eyes. They were still the same cold eyes as before, but this time they were… curious?

"Fine," said Harvey. "Take me to your place. But I expect a fine policy of no weed being smoked within your premise. Understood?"

Mike couldn't help but laugh. He had smelled weed on his jacket from a late afternoon puff. This man was different from the type of people he knew and hung out with. And for some reason, he couldn't wait to show the man his apartment. Though, he didn't know why. His apartment was shit.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Gran,_

_I met this guy outside Trevor's workplace today. It was late and I had plans to meet up with Trevor... Trevor who never even showed up or responded with a phone call to cancel our plans. I know what you must be thinking. I can practically see your face right now. Trevor's Trouble, with a capital 'T.' And I have no excuses for him. Trevor was the brother I never had. He's family now that you're gone. When we were younger, and when Jenny would be gone for the summer with her parents, we would have so much fun at the pool. Remember how you would take us to the public pool? Man, that was just too much fun, so many memories. Memories Trevor seems to skim over, and memories that are frozen time frames locked into my brain._

_Oh, gosh. I'm depressing myself. Back to my day today! So before I met this mysterious drunkard outsides Trev's place, I met up with Jenny at that bagel shop you loved. She was talking about Trevor and how he seemed weird lately. I haven't noticed any changes, but Jenny has and I'm getting worried. He comes home late and won't talk about his day. A little part of me is happy about their shortcomings You know I've always had a thing for Jenny. She's smart and beautiful but most importantly someone who's not dependant on my brain and never challenges it. She's never used me for anything, so I respect her. The girl is perfect._

_So after lunch with Jenny, I went to work and saw Trevor there. What he was doing at the bike shop I've no idea. He said he had to borrow some money. Reluctantly, I gave him everything in my wallet. So now I have no cash for food, and I'm starving. I could really do with Gran's Homemade Cookies right about now._

_So now onto the mysterious drunkard. His name is Harvey. Harvey right? I have so many jokes to pelt this guy with about his name. Many to do with obscure TV shows and old movies. I met him outside Trev's building and took him to my place. The man didn't seem dangerous, just rich and haughty. But oddly, the guy somewhat reminded me of you. I'm not sure how. He was drunk and rude and had these dispassionate eyes like you've never seen. But, his mannerism of his slow step, or his calculating head tilt… it was all you. And… it makes me warm inside. Though, I would never admit this aloud. Jesus, I sound like a homosexual. I'm actually laughing out loud right now, Gran._

_He's sleeping in my bed so I have to get comfy on the floral spring poking couch that you used to own. Ah, memories of sleeping on this couch… well anyhow. I have to hit the sheets, work tomorrow._

_Miss you,_

_ Michael _


	3. Chapter 3

Mike was having a wonderful dream of riding his bike in a non-crowded Manhattan, eating bagels, and of Jenny. Jenny in a nothing bikini sipping coke through a straw… Hot damn. Because this was sleeping Mike, the no-no of fantasizing of Trevor's girlfriend was dulled and sleeping Mike thought why the hell not? But his why-the-hell-not was rudely interrupted when a loud banging woke him up.

Slightly delirious, Mike stumbled to his door. The world seemed to wave and bend as he hopped over a few clothes on the ground. Looking through the peephole, he found a slightly perturbed looking Trevor. Groaning, Mike undid the latches of his apartment door and swung it open. Trevor pushed passed him.

"Thank god," Trevor let out a roar of a sigh and went straight to Mike's fridge. Finding nothing but cold air and slightly spoiled condiments, Trevor slammed it shut and got a glass from his cupboard and went to his sink and ran some water in it.

"Trevor"—Trevor held up a finger as he downed a glass of water. Mike, still woozy from getting up too fast, sat down on his slightly cluttered coffee table. Idly scratching his bare chest, Mike closed his eyes in effort to shut out the bright TV glare from the window. Seeing how it was near the beginning of autumn and the after effects of summer still lingered in small spaces, Mike pretty much lived in his boxers and nothing else; at least in apartment room.

"_Alright_," Trevor slammed his cup down on Mikes kitchen counter and went over to Mike. "You have got to help me."

Mike sat up straighter. "With what, what's going on?"

Trevor just shook his head in despair. "It's Jenny, man. I'm pretty sure Jenny kicked me out last night."

"Pretty sure?" Mike sputtered.

"No, I'm sure. She kicked me out."

Mike shook his head in disbelief. "What were her exact words?"

"Uh, something along the lines that she was tired of me and she didn't know who I was anymore. Oh and that I stink like shit, not sure if that was literal comparison or not, and that she didn't want to be in those kind of ugly relationships you see in dramas."

For a delirious second, Mike wanted to laugh. "Well, you have changed… a bit. I guess.

"I have not!"

"Well, I mean… last night. We were supposed to meet up after work for dinner. Your treat, is what you said, and you never showed up. I kind of waited a while"—suddenly a ringer went off. Trevor swore and slid his phone out of his pocket. It was a text and Trevor swore again.

"I got to go Mike. Oh, and tell your lady friend I said hello."

"'Lady friend?'" But Trevor had already dashed out in his expensive suit and disheveled hair. Mike shook his head and went to stand up, but a wave of more dizziness swept over him. Swearing, Mike propped himself up against his radiator. Its cool metal was heaven against the touch as it has been unused for quite some time. It was then that he heard a crank from his bathroom, and realized his shower had been running and someone had just turned the shower knobs to off. Then last night's drunk swept through his mind. Chuckling, Mike moved off the radiator just as the man Harvey walked in nothing but Mike's frayed maroon towel around his waist. Mike's last thoughts were of how a businessman like Harvey could have such a well built chest that he'd not been recruited for a model agency yet. That and this man had probably used all his hot water up. There was not much else to spare in thought for Mike had already collapsed onto the floor into unconsciousness.

**Sorry for the short chapters, I've been super busy lately and I haven't had time to just sit down and WRITE. But please leave some reviews for me on how I'm doing. I don't care if it's about my writing style or what you wish to see. I'm kind of just searching for some confidence. I believe when someone writes something, it's showing their soul through words... I'm obviously a new writer on fan fiction, so my ropes are bit loose. But I have some followers, so thank you so much! I love you all, KISSES! - ****_Fairyland Flame_**** 3**


	4. Chapter 4

Mike woke up with a dry mouth and a cool head. Adjusting before he opened his eyes, Mike found himself in his own bed with his comforter pulled and folded just under his chest. He heard a sizzling from his kitchen and scuffling from feet against his scratchy un waxed flooring. And then he smelled it. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it smelled like food, and the food smelled delicious.

Mike opened his eyes. Things wavered and he let out a gasp, not quite sure if he was still dreaming or conscious. He let out a moan, and sat up against his headboard. A rolled up, wet face cloth fell from his forehead and onto his lap with a dull _thwump_. He picked it up and put it on his nightstand in a delirious state. He rubbed his head with hands and things came into more focus.

"What's wrong with me," Mike muttered into the palms of his hands. "This is shit."

"Well if you ask me, I'd say the likely hood of malnutrition and dehydration are a fairly good deduction."

Mike startled. A man stood in his doorway. This time with clothes, and clothes that resembled quite closely to Mike's workout sweats and his "I'm Irish" t-shirt. Both pieces of clothing were loose fitting on Mike, but on this man, they fit like gloves. A good fitting glove. Mike vaguely wondered if the man was wearing his underwear too. But another thought said this man wouldn't, and was probably going commando.

Mike sputtered at his idling thoughts, and shook his head to clear it. "Uh… um. Harvey. Right?"

The man Harvey nodded his head at him. "Harvey Specter. And you're Michael."

Mike blushed. "It's Mike. Mike Ross. No one calls me Michael."

The man snorted and walked over to Mike's nightstand. He picked up the wet cloth and replaced it with a plate of food and a glass of water and a glass of orange juice beside it. Mike hadn't even noticed the consumptions in Harvey's hands until now.

"W-wow! D-did you make this?" Mike didn't know why he was stuttering. But an amazing golden yellow frittata and buttered brown rye were carefully position on his dish.

"Yes, I did. Eggs high in protein, orange juice with sugar and vitamins, water for hydration. Now eat the damn food before I get pissed off."

Mike ignored Harvey's Hangover Grump and gratefully took the plate into his lap and ate. Through mouthfuls, Mike sputtered out a "thank you" and "this is goddamn heaven'." Harvey just leaned on Mike's bedroom door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes watching over Mike as he gobbled down the yummy frittata full of veggies and some meats. After a chug of orange juice, Mike had turned chatty.

"Did you know that one egg contains twenty percent of the daily recommended intake of choline? Mmm, yup. It's true. Eggs are fantastic. Approximately ninety percent of Americans are choline deficient. Choline is pretty much essential for phospholipids used in all cell membranes. Which is pretty much saying that choline is essential for brain and nerve health. And oranges, Jesus, don't even get me started. Oranges from concentrate are extremely good for the body. One orange contains 116.2 percent of our daily intake of vitamin C. They are even saying that oranges can help fight cancer through cell growth. Can you imagine? Oranges are fucking awesome. They even"—

Mike stopped licking his fork and froze in mid sentence. Harvey was just smiling at him in mock interest. Yet again, Mike felt his cheeks redden.

"Oh um, I'm sorry. I… um. Thank you. Again. This obviously wasn't from my fridge, so… you must have gone out and bought it. You really didn't have to do that."

"Oh, but I did. I have a thing for nurturing baby animals back to health. Just call me Snow White."

Mike shifted uncomfortably. "I guess we share a common attribute I guess. I mean, you weren't sick. You were drunk… like really drunk. Were you at a party or something?"

Harvey snorted. "Hardly. Yesterday… just wasn't my day. Know what I mean?"

This time it was Mike who snorted. "You can say that. Have you seen my living situation? My awful hair? Everyday isn't my day."

Harvey ran a hand over his face, as if to check for stubble. His face was a baby's ass. Smooth as butter.

"Well, glad to know I'm not alone, Mike. Oh, and by the way, there's more frittata in the kitchen. I've got to run, I have a life to go back to. Nice meeting you."

"Wait! Um, are… aren't you going to eat some? I mean, I passed out on you. I hadn't eaten at all yesterday so my energy levels had obviously dipped into a really low state. The least I can do is"—

"You've already paid me back by giving me a bed to sleep in and a hot shower. Well, a mostly hot shower. I have work that I'm late to by three hours and deadlines I've already missed."

Mike pursed his lips. "You're a lawyer, right?"

"Right."

"I figured. With that hair and that suit and those eyes of yours, you look like a Fat Cat."

"Gee, Mike. Thanks." Mike laughed and Harvey released something of a smile. "Well once I've changed back into my clothes, I'll be leaving." He put out his hand and Mike shook it, surprised a little my it's callous and warmth. "Have a good one Michael Ross. " Harvey walked out, taking Mike's dishes, and closing the door. Mike wanted to see him out, but his eyes had already started to close.


End file.
